


A Kingdom, Or This

by Anonymous



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Violence, Growing Up Together, M/M, Royalty AU, War, semi graphic depictions of war, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It’s Zhenya and Sid, Sid and Zhenya.Soon they race off before they’re even dismissed, feet stomping across the floor and in their hurry to get outside and enjoy the warm weather before the leaves change and the snow falls.Weeks turn to months which pass into years and they grow closer and closer.Zhenya brings books in his native language and they sit together in the tall grass as Zhenya helps Sid sound out words.Sid teaches him how to tie knots and how to sail, pulling him out of the water on more than one occasion, wings heavy with water and spluttering and then laughing when Sid dumps him into the bottom of the boat.They grow up together.





	A Kingdom, Or This

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Captive Prince. I've never read that but I saw an edit on Pinterest with the quote and it was perfect.

A hush falls over the servants as the Queen of Magnitogorsk glides into the Great Hall.

The only sound is the clicking of her heels against the marble floor and Sidney takes refuge behind his mother’s skirts when she stands with the King to greet her.

She’s shockingly beautiful. Dressed all in black and tall with dark hair and eyes and sharp cheekbones that catch the glow of the candles that light the room.

Her wings fan out behind her and sparkle with silver and gold.

There is fire in her eyes and Sidney clutches at the satin of his mother’s dress.

“Queen Malkin,” Sidney’s father says. “Welcome to our kingdom.”

“Lovely to be here,” she says graciously, but sounds anything but. She bows, almost as a halfhearted afterthought and leans forward just enough to reveal a boy.

He’s dressed similarly with the same dark eyes and hair but his wings are a dirty grey.

He’s holding onto the Queen’s dress the same way Sidney is holding onto his mother’s.

“My son,” Queen Malkin says. She puts a hand on the boys back and guides him around. “Prince Evgeni.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Sidney’s mother says. “You remember our son, Sidney.”

For the first time there is warmth in the Queen’s eyes. “Of course. You’ve grown quite a bit since I’ve seen you last.”

Sidney doesn’t ever remember meeting her. He knows very little of their kingdom, just the whispers from the maids that wash his linens and gossip when they think they’re alone.

Magnitogorsk is cold and isolated and the Queen is someone to be fears.

“He’ll be eight in a few months,” Sid’s mother says. “About the same age as your Prince, correct?”

“Evgeni just turned nine.”

“Sidney,” the King interrupts, his voice hard. “Why don’t you show Evgeni your room. We have some things to discuss. It would only be boring for children.”

Evgeni’s wings flutter behind him as they take the stone staircase towards Sidney’s room.

Sidney has more toys and books than he knows what to do with but as they sit on the plush carpet in his room with tiny silver warriors spread around them all he wants to do is ask questions about Evgeni’s wings.

“Do the feathers ever fall out?”

“Sometimes in the Spring.”

“Do they itch?”

Evgeni giggles. “No.”

“Can you fly?”

“Not yet. Mama says she'll teach me when I get older.”

“She can fly?”

Evgeni nods.

“Father said when I get older he'll teach me how to fight with a real sword instead of the wooden one I practice with now. But I think flying would be more fun.”

Evgeni just grins at him, wide and toothy and Sidney grins back.

*

The Queen returns each week to Scotia with Evgeni in tow.

Evgeni shyly tells him to call him Zhenya.

“If you want,” he says as he throws a leather ball back to Sidney. “It’s what my family and all my friends back home call me.”

“You can call me Sid. Sidney is so boring. All I hear all day is _Prince Sidney, Prince Sidney_. I hate it.”

“Don’t like being a prince?”

“I don’t know.” He catches the ball and holds on. “It seems like a lot sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Zhenya answers as he catches the ball easily when Sid throws it.

Someone shouts inside but they’re too far to tell who it was.

They both frown at the castle.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there,” Sid asks.

“Money,” Zhenya answers. “Always money. So boring.”

They slip into an easy silence with the sun shining brightly down on them.

Inside the castle tempers flare and their kingdoms march closer and closer to war.

*

It’s Zhenya and Sid, Sid and Zhenya.

Soon they race off before they’re even dismissed, feet stomping across the floor and in their hurry to get outside and enjoy the warm weather before the leaves change and the snow falls.

Weeks turn to months which pass into years and they grow closer and closer.

Zhenya brings books in his native language and they sit together in the tall grass as Zhenya helps Sid sound out words.

Sid teaches him how to tie knots and how to sail, pulling him out of the water on more than one occasion, wings heavy with water and spluttering and then laughing when Sid dumps him into the bottom of the boat.

They grow up together.

*

When Sid is ten his father begins to train him with a real sword, just as he promised.

It’s heavy and cold in his hands but he takes to it quick and impresses all of his instructors.

He counts down the days until Zhenya comes again so he can show off.

Unfortunately the Queen has just begun teaching Zhenya to fly and Sid cannot gain any ground on him as they joust with sticks at the edge of the woods.

Zhenya can’t get much lift yet but it’s enough to always put him just out of reach when Sid goes in for the kill.

He laughs each time Sid swings at the air and the more he laughs the more frustrated Sid gets.

“That’s not fair.”

“Sure it is. You’re better with sword.”

“Yeah but you can get better at that.” Sid swings at Zhenya’s stick just to be petty and knocks it from his hands. “I’ll never be able to fly.”

Zhenya sets his feet back down on the ground and reaches to pick up his stick. Before his hands can close around it Sid strikes and pushes him backwards.

Zhenya uses his wings as a weapon and knocks Sid’s stick from his hand and although he is taller and has a longer reach, even without the wings, Sid already weighs more and uses his momentum to keep him down and somehow manages to grab Zhenya’s stick.

He holds his against his throat and grins wickedly.

“This is when you kill them,” he says and Zhenya swallows.

“You could do that?”

Sid immediately drops the stick and swings off him to sit in the dirt by his hip.

“I don’t know. Could you?”

Zhenya stays on his back and looks up at the sky. The sun is filtering through the trees and the leaves speckle his skin with shade.

“Princes fight all the time. Don’t know any of them who haven’t killed.”

“Yeah, but could you kill?”

Zhenya touches his fingertips to Sid’s knee. His trousers are stained with dirt and grass.

“Maybe we get lucky. Don’t ever have to find out.”

Sid watches him for a moment before falling back.

Together they watch the clouds overhead until the stewards comes calling for them.

*

In the dead of winter they bundle up and wrestle in the snow until the tips of Zhenya’s wings are icy and Sid’s nose is bright red and both their teeth are chattering.

“Will they ever change color,” Sid asks as he towel dries his hair.

Zhenya sits with his back to the flames in front of the fireplace in Sid’s room.

“You don’t like?”

Sid tips his head to the side and rolls his eyes and Zhenya grins with his tongue poking out between his teeth.

They’ve known each other for years now and Zhenya still thinks he can get away with things like this.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I just meant your mother’s wings-.”

“Are much prettier. Yes.”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“Don’t have to. They will change in time. Mama says by the time I’m a teenager.”

“You only have one more year.”

He plops down next to him and Zhenya shrugs. Their shoulders brush and his wings stretch out behind Sid’s back.

“Sometimes things happen over night.” He stares at Sid for a moment before reaching out tugging at Sid’s freshly cut hair. “Things change quick.”

He takes his hand back and smiles.

Zhenya is almost thirteen and Sidney is almost twelve and for the first time he thinks about kissing his best friend.

*

Zhenya’s wings don’t change color until Zhenya is fifteen and Sid sees them for the first time as he’s waiting by the gate for him and his mother to return for their weekly visit.

They come in followed by fifty soldiers dressed in silver armor, marching with their swords and shields at their sides. They all have wings but none of them are as beautiful as the Queens. Or as Geno's.

Sid’s never seen anything like it.

“What are the soldiers for?”

The Queen gives him a sidelong glance and keeps walking with the troops, cape swirling behind her and wings tucked firmly against her back.

Zhenya breaks off and stands beside Sid as the gates close behind the last of the soldiers.

*

“What are they doing now?”

“Just standing there. Haven’t moved.”

Sid tips his head back against the bark of the tree and looks up.

Zhenya is perched on the highest branch. He has a perfect vantage point to see the castle and he’s gotten good enough at flying that Sid no longer worries about him taking a wrong step that would cause him to come crashing back to earth.

“Could be bad, Sid.”

“It could also be nothing.” He turns his focus back on the blades of grass that he’s weaving into a loop.

Zhenya lands with a heavy thud next to him, dust kicking up beneath his feet.

“Soldiers don’t come all this way for nothing.”

“Your mother wouldn’t tell you anything?”

“She never does. Not about anything official. What about your parents?”

Sid shakes his head and ties off the grass.

“Sid. You think…..”

“No,” he says quickly. “It’s not that.”

“Could be. Show up with soldiers, look like threat. Look like war.”

“It’s not war.”

“Just look like, then?”

“You’ve been coming here for years. Why now?”

“Don’t know.”

Sid holds the ring of grass out for Zhenya to slip his hand through. It hangs on his wrist and Sid thinks that he should have woven some bright yellow dandelions into it.

“Your father still teaching you how to fight?”

“Yes.” That’s not unusual. Most boys in the kingdom learn. But. “He’s been teaching me more than just sword skills. We’ve been working with a bow and arrow lately. We’ve been hunting more birds.”

They exchange a worried look and Sid says “we could run away.”

Zhenya drops to his knees beside him.

“And go where?” “Anywhere.”

“People would look for us.”

“We would figure something out. We could blend in.”

“Sidney.” He stretches his wings all the way out. The breezes from them makes the grass sway and then he tucks them back in. “Not easy for me to blend in.”

“We have to do something,” Sid says quickly. “We can’t just let this happen, we can do something we can-.” He stops and struggles to find the words and Zhenya wraps a hand around the back of his neck to drag their forehead together.

“Just promise,” he says. “No matter what happens we don’t hurt each other.”

“I could never,” Sid whispers, “I promise. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Sid has his eyes open and he watches the slow smile spread across Zhenya’s face.

Sid leans back and touches his feathers. They’re pearly white and tinged with gold and silver and stiffer than they were before. He’s outgrown the downy softness.

Zhenya stays completely still until Sid drops his hand.

“They’re beautiful. Really.”

Zhenya drops his head bashfully. “Not as pretty as Mama’s.”

“I think they’re better,” he says and then quickly adds, “but don’t tell her I said that.”

*

That night Sidney picks at his food.

Quail and potatoes and green beans picked fresh from the garden all taste rotten and spoiled in his mouth.

His mother asks if something is wrong and Sidney takes a deep breath to gain confidence before he blurts out “is there going to be a war?”

“Of course not,” she says.

“Then why all the soldiers?”

“Oh, you know how those winged are,” she says dismissively. “Always showing off.”

Sid frowns.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Sidney. Eat your dinner.”

His father says nothing and Sidney picks up his fork.

*

The next week the Queen turns up alone with only Zhenya walking behind her.

“Is everything okay here,” Zhenya whispers even though his mother is already out of earshot.

“My mother told me not to worry. My father said nothing.”

“I got nothing from mama. Didn’t expect to. She always says I’m too young to be involved. Hey.” He tugs at Sid’s arm. “Nothing changes. No matter what, war or no war, always friends.”

Sid pulls his arm out of Zhenya’s grasp and grabs ahold of his hand.

He links their finger together and squeezes.

*

“It's not fair.” Sid lifts himself out of the water and rests his arms on the rock. “I still look like a kid.”

“You still a kid.” Zhenya lets his hand dip lazily into the water. He's laying on his stomach with his wings spread out, drying off.

He's tan everywhere and Sid can't stop looking.

“I'll be sixteen tomorrow.”

Zhenya cracks one eye open. “Baby.”

Sid splashes him then dives beneath the water to avoid Zhenya’s retaliation.

When he pops back up Zhenya's head is pillowed on his biceps.

Zhenya is only a year older but he already looks like a man. He's all long limbed grace and elegance, just like his mother.

His arms and legs are strongly defined with muscle and Sid walks the line between jealousy and interest/

It didn't happen overnight. Sid’s been watching him for awhile but lately he's developed a fear that Zhenya is going to leave him behind. That he'll grow the rest of the way without him. He won’t have time for childlike things like swimming in the river.

“It's not fair,” he repeats and Zhenya laughs and rests his chin on his wrists.

“Why you want to grow up? What's wrong with looking like a kid?”

“People still pinch my cheeks,” he says flatly and Zhenya smothers his laugh in the crook of his arm.

“Who touches a prince like that?”

“Dignitaries that are higher ranked than me.”

Zhenya reaches out for his cheek, cooing his name and Sidney hoists himself all the way out, water flooding the stone and soaking the tips of Zhenya's feathers.

Zhenya rolls his eyes and mumbles “yes, adult, so mature.”

Sidney sticks his tongue out at him. “Your wings are a mess.”

They’re damp and ruffled and a few of them are caked with silt and twigs from diving deep in the water.

Zhenya lifts one across Sid’s lap and says “fix.”

Sid starts to lay them flat and dips his hand into the water so he can wash off the mud.

Sid works his way slowly across the wing, picking out twigs and flattening them down, making sure each one is in their proper place.

Zhenya hums happily and arches his back, rolls his shoulders, and settles back down. He turns his head towards him but keeps his eyes closed. There is water clumping his eyelashes together and Sid can’t help himself when his hand slips past the feathers and into the hair right above his ear.

It’s soft and damp, curling around Sid’s fingers and he’s so transfixed on it that he doesn’t even notice that Zhenya is watching him with interest.

“Sorry,” Sid says as he snaps his hand back. His cheeks feel warm and he knows it’s from more that just the sun. Zhenya pushes himself up on his elbows, still looking at him the same way and Sid clasps his hands in his lap as his mind scrambles for something new to say.

“Sidney.” Zhenya lifts his wing off his lap and sits all the way up, feet dangling in the water beside him. “Have something for you.”

He reaches behind them to where their clothes are in a pile. Sid can’t look away from the long stretch of skin along his ribs.

Zhenya sits back up with a smile and both of his hands formed into fists. He holds them both out to Sid.

“Pick,” he says.

Sid taps his left hand and Zhenya turns his hand over and uncurls his fingers.

Laying in his palm is a small gold leaf attached to a gold chain.

“Made it myself,” Zhenya says when Sid takes it.

The leaf is thin and delicate and Sid can feel the indentations from the hammer when he runs his finger across it.

“Do you like? Sorry it’s not more fancy but I’m just learning. Harder than you think. Burned my hand.”

“I love it,” Sid answers. “It’s perfect. You really made this yourself? It’s beautiful.”

Zhenya preens then holds up his hand. There’s a fresh scar on the side of it, skin pink and shiny. “Hurt lots.”

“What’s in the other hand?”

Zhenya opens that one and shows off a second necklace, identical to the first. “One for me, too.”

He slips it over his neck and the leaf hangs right over his heart. He nods to Sid. “Put it on. Starting to think you don’t really like.”

In his haste to pull it over his head it gets stuck on his ears and Zhenya bats his hands away when he starts to tug too hard on the chain.

“Stop,” Zhenya says softly. “You break it and I’m going to have to give you mine.”

With gentle hands he eases the chain around his ears and down his neck. His knuckles brush his collarbone as he runs his fingers along the chain towards the pendant. He holds it between his thumb and index finger for a moment before he lets it drop.

“Pretty,” he says.

“Yeah, I told you, it’s beautiful.”

“Not talking about necklace, Sid.”

Zhenya’s hand settles on the side of Sid’s neck and Sid’s mouth parts, just slightly.

“Oh,” he says on a whisper and Zhenya’s hand curls around the back of his neck and pulls him in.

Zhenya’s lips are there and gone. Warm and chapped and much too brief.

“First,” Zhenya asks, his thumb stroking against the skin just below his ear.

Sid nods.

“Good?”

Sid nods again and Zhenya smiles and pulls him in again.

They kiss until Sid’s mouth is red and sore from it and it’s time for Zhenya to go back home.

*

On the morning of Sidney's sixteenth birthday he wakes up to the two kingdoms at war.

*

Sid rails against it.

He shoves the silversmith out of the way when he tries to fit him for armor and barges into the Kings quarters.

Sidney’s father is standing over maps with a few of his closest advisors.

They exchange worried looks when the doors swing open.

“Why,” Sid pleads, his voice cracking.

“It's complicated.”

“Then explain it to me. Is it money? Land? Whatever it is fix it.”

“It's not that simple. This has been destined to happen since before you were born. There's no stopping it.”

“Try harder.”

“Sidney, you know nothing of the real world. Those people are different from us.”

“How? Because they have wings? Zhenya is the exact same as me.”

The King rubs his hand across his brow. “It was a mistake to let you get so close to that boy. You’re seeing him as something other than what he is.”

“And what is he?”

“He is the enemy.”

“He is my friend. He won’t fight me. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. He doesn't even like killing mosquitoes.”

The King laughs. “That’s good. You remember his soft heart during battle. Be sure to aim your arrow directly at it.”

Sidney is horrified. “I won’t fight him.”

“Then you’ll be hanged for treason.”

“I’m your son.”

“You will be a soldier,” the King slams his fists against the table. “This boy is not your friend. You can’t change destiny, Sidney. The sooner you accept that the better.” He clasps his hands behind his back and stalks forward. “You know the Prince has a kind heart. Think of the things he knows about you, how he’ll exploit them.”

Zhenya knows how he fights. How stubborn he is. How he’ll do absolutely anything to get a win. Reckless and unnecessary things in the name of victory. All any enemy would have to do to defeat him would be to wait for the opportunity. He would give it to them.

“He would never.”

“You’re naive to think he didn’t know this was coming all along.”

“He didn’t.”

“These people lie, Sidney. Yesterday I believed we had more time. Today we fight. He was never on your side. He was never your friend.”

Sid stares down at the floor, blood rushing in his ears as his father places both hands on his shoulders.

“It’s time to show him you’re no longer a dumb, trusting, boy. Show him he can’t get away with taking advantage of you like this. You’re stronger than him. Smarter. Only one of you will come out of this alive, Sidney. Make sure it’s you.”

*

War is ugly and bloody and Sidney grows with it.

New muscle stretch around old scars that he carries with him from battle to battle, quickly rising amongst the ranks.

Those who doubt him, who say he only got to where he is because of the King find themselves on their backs with a blade to their throats.

They can grovel, beg for forgiveness and plead for their lives, or take the blade.

Sidney never delights in the latter but as he wipes his blade on his cloak and turns back to his men he can feel the power coursing through his veins.

It’s addicting and terrifying.

*

Sidney fights constantly.

He eats and sleeps when he can and only allows himself to think of Zhenya when he’s alone in his tent in the middle of the night.

It’s been years since he’s seen him but he can still feel their lips working against each other, tasting like river water and the ghost of promises they never got a chance to keep.

He must still be alive. Sidney would have heard of his death the same way Zhenya would have heard of his.

He wonder if his body is as scarred as his own. If he’s as tired as he is, if he gets a sick thrill each time he takes a life because maybe that means he’s one moment closer to being done with this war.

He wonders if he still wears his necklace.

If Zhenya lays in bed in the middle of the night and thinks of him as well.

*

His men send women to his tent.

They elbow him in the ribs and raise their eyebrows at him as he makes his way across camp.

They’re all beautiful. Long hair and clear skin and they step towards him in fine silk gowns with soft hands.

He sends them away, one after the other.

He knows he's getting a reputation around camp.

People whisper behind his back and he can't ever pinpoint it to serve out a punishment though he supposes he could pick at random and a beating would be deserved.

He doesn't have time for trivial things until one night there's a man waiting for him instead lounging on his bed.

He's tall and wiry, with dark hair and heavily hooded eyes.

When he stands Sidney has to tip his head back to look at him.

“Your father thought I might be more to your liking.” His long fingers dance along Sidney's waist and he ducks down to brush his lips along the shell of his ear. “Was he right?”

Sid shuts his eyes and swallows. Then he unbuckles his belt and pushes the man back towards his bed.

Sid’s necklace swings between them and the man reaches out for it.

Sid intercepts him before he gets close and pins both his hands to the bed by his head.

The man grins up at him and rolls his hips.

It’s a pale imitation but Sid doesn’t spend the night alone for the first time.

He falls asleep with a heavy arm across his waist and warm breath on his neck.

An imitation will never be as good as the real thing.

*

Shouting wakes him in the morning.

Shouting and metal against metal and wings beating against the ground.

He pulls on his clothes and grabs his sword and turns back to his companion.

He’s propped up on his elbow and the blankets are pooling around his waist. He looks alarmed.

“Stay here,” Sid says.

He nods and Sid ducks between the flaps and into the mayhem.

There are winged soldiers everywhere.

Sid’s men are barely dressed and unprepared and he watches a boy, no more than sixteen get cut down as he’s reaching for his arrows.

Sidney does what he can.

He moves through the camp swinging his sword with precision and power leaving blood and feathers and carnage in his wake.

It's not a long battle. Ambushes usually aren't and in the end all that's left are dying men and the soil turning a dirty red beneath his feet.

There's a gash in his side, painful but shallow and he won't bother the doctors with it until the rest of his men are taken care of. He might be able to stitch it himself or get the man waiting for him to help.

He's across camp when he turns and heads back for his tent and catches the flutter of wings disappearing between the flaps.

He leaps over bodies and the remnants of last nights cooking fires to get there, the pain in his side flaring each time he turns too quick but he fights through it.

When he gets to his tent there's a winged soldier standing at the side of his bed looking down at the man.

There’s a bow hanging over his shoulder and arrows tucked into the sash at his waist.

He’s holding a bloody blade in his hand and when he turns around Sid takes a step back.

Zhenya is older now but just as handsome even with the scar across his cheek.

His armor is beautiful, gold feathers that cascade from his shoulders to his waist and the wings on his helmet shimmer with silver and gold, just like the wings on his back which are now stained with blood.

It separates him from his fellow countrymen who are always dressed in the plainest of metals.

This makes Zhenya stand out. It makes him a target. It’s stupid and dangerous and the part of Sid that still desperately wants to protect him wants to tell him that.

But it’s been years since the war started and no one has been able to hit this golden target.

Zhenya drops the knife and reaches for the bow at his back and an arrow at his waist.

He looks right through him, like he’s not even there, like their history means nothing to him as he raises the bow and takes aim.

Sid doesn’t raise his sword.

He made a promise to never harm him and he intends to keep it.

He hopes Zhenya will have a nice life once the war is over.

Zhenya takes a breath. Sid watches his chest rise and fall beneath the gold.

“Don't move.”

The arrow whizzes past Sid’s ear and through the canvas of the tent.

A winged soldier falls through it, sword in his hand and an arrow in his chest.

Sid’s heart is in his chest and he drops his sword and steps forward.

Zhenya doesn’t look at him as he steps around him and over Sid’s sword and the fallen soldier.

Through the flaps Sid watches him bend his knees and take off.

Any other soldiers follow after him and they disappear into the fog.

The man in his bed is staring up at the ceiling.

His throat has been slit from ear to ear.

Sid puts a hand over his forehead and forces his eyes to close.

*

They bury their dead and burn the winged.

The air smells like death when the King shows up, stepping through, not around, bloody puddles as he makes his way across the camp.

“An ambush,” Sid says. “With the cloud cover the lookouts never saw them coming. This couldn’t have been avoided.”

The King nods. “Casualties?”

“Heavy. I don’t have an official count yet but I know we’ve lost a lot.”

He turns his gaze on the burning bodies, the soldier with the arrow in his heart is at the top of the pile.

“They lost a lot of men as well.” He puts his hand on Sid’s shoulder. “There’s no shame in this, Sidney. You should be proud of the way your men fought back. Now it’s time for you to fix yourself up.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need attention until all the men are taken care of.”

“Everyone who is going to survive this has already been attended to. These men would be nowhere without your leadership. It’s important to take care of yourself as well.” His father cups his face gently. “You know your mother worries about you. Go see the doctor. I’ll take care of things while you’re gone.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Sid says, the title slipping from his mouth on instinct.

The King pats his face and releases him. “Oh, Sidney. Some of the men seemed to think they saw the prince here among the fray. Did you see him? Prince Evgeni?”

Sid shakes his head. “No. I never saw him.”

The King narrows his eyes but nods. “Interesting.”

He turns his back to Sid and continues to watch the flames.

*

Sid is twenty five the next time he sees Zhenya again.

He’s in the thick of battle when suddenly everything stops.

“The Queen is dead,” someone yells and Sid pulls his sword free and pushes his way towards the front line.

Zhenya is kneeling in the mud with his helmet on the ground next to his knee.

His mother is lying in his arms gasping for breath, an arrow buried deep in her side.

She pulls Zhenya close and whispers something in his ear before she goes limp.

A murmur spreads through the men, cheers mix with sobs and Zhenya looks up at Sid. There are tears streaming down his face.

“What should we do with him, Sir,” one of his men asks.

Someone yells “kill him” and a few other cheer in agreement, still drunk on blood lust.

Sid steps forward as if to shield him.

“Take the Prince back to camp. Put him in a tent by himself, make sure it’s guarded. Nothing will be done until we get word from the King when we get back to Scotia. I don’t want any of them to be harmed, do you understand me?”

One of the men roughly forces Zhenya to his feet but he keeps his arms out and fights against it, trying to get back to his mother. The soldier twists at Zhenya’s wing and he cries out in pain.

Sid doesn’t think twice about pulling his sword and diving it into the man's heart.

Zhenya falls back to his mother and a gasp ripples through the crowd.

“Did I not make myself clear,” Sid asks, voice carrying in the wind. “Do not harm them or you’ll face a similar fate.” He sets the toe of his boot on the man’s chest and pulls his sword out. “Start moving the others. Don’t take him until he’s ready. Treat the Queen with respect when you move her body. She’s still a royal.”

Zhenya has his head bowed and Sidney puts his hand on his shoulder.

“I'm so sorry, Evgeni. Truly I am.”

Sid feels Zhenya’s body shake with a sob and Sid leaves him there kneeling over his mother.

*

The prisoners will be offered a choice: death or servitude.

Prince Evgeni will be publically executed showing everyone the end to the Malkin line.

Sid stays stone faced when his father makes the announcement and won’t look Zhenya’s way as the guards drag him back to his cell.

*

Sidney sleeps his in his childhood bed for the first time in years.

His mother had kissed his forehead, seeming so much smaller and frailer than he remembers and her voice shook when she told him how happy he was that he was back.

“I am so sorry about, Evgeni,” she had whispered. Her voice still echoed off the stone in the hallway. “I know how fond you were of him.”

Sidney lets himself be held and doesn’t think of how his mother is already referring to him in the past tense.

Zhenya is still alive and locked in a cell across the grounds.

Sidney lies in bed and stares up at the full moon and thinks of him until he can’t lie still a moment longer and his feet hit the floor.

*

The guards come to attention when he steps into the lantern light.

“You two can take a break if you’d like. Stretch your legs. Go get something to eat.”

They exchange a look.

“The King told us we weren’t supposed to leave.”

“He’s not here right now, is he?”

“But, Sir, for your safety, really I think-.”

“You secured the Prince, didn’t you? What damage could he possibly do to me?”

“Prince Sidney-.”

“Do I need to remind you of the last man who doubted me? I left him dead on the battlefield. Is that what you want?”

He holds his hand out for the key then tips his head to the side when they drop it into his palm.

He waits until they’ve turned the corner before takes the lantern off the hook and opens the door.

Zhenya is slumped in the corner of the cell with his hands tied at the wrists and his wings chained to the wall.

He doesn’t even lift his head when Sid walks in and closes the door behind him.

“Where is my mother?” Sid sets the lantern down. “She’s being sent back to your kingdom for burial.”

“I don’t have a kingdom anymore,” Zhenya says bitterly. “This war has cost me everything, starting with you and ending with my life. I want her beside me, wherever it is you decide to throw my body. We should be together.”

Sid drops to his knee beside him and tips his face up with his fingers beneath his chin.

His skin looks unmarred, no fresh bruises or cuts.

“Did they hurt you,” he asks.

Zhenya ignores him.

“I would rather you do it now. Tell them I broke free somehow and you had to kill me. There would be more honor in that than being dragged out into the middle of the square to be killed by a stranger. Hung up like an animal. At least this way it’s someone I used to know.”

Sid settles down next to him, sitting at his hip the same way he did when they were kids.

He reaches beneath his tunic and fingers the chain around his neck.

“I'm sorry about your love,” Zhenya says and Sidney frowns. “The man in your tent. I’m sorry.”

“He wasn’t my love,” Sid answers. “I didn’t even know his name. Did you think he was me?”

“No, and that’s why I killed him. The thought of you and him together and….jealous. Stupid. War gave me a temper.”

“He reminded me of you. That's why we were….” Sid squeezes his eyes shut. “He didn't deserve to die like that. He was innocent.”

Zhenya gives him a sad smile. “We were all innocent at some point.” He knocks his knee against Sid’s thigh. “So handsome, Sid, I always knew.”

Sid laughs humorlessly. His necklace slips free of his tunic and Zhenya gasps.

“You keep? After all these years you-.”

“I never took it off. You were always with me. I tried not to think about you because it was easier but I always hoped you were okay. I wondered if you were thinking of me too.”

“Sid.” Zhenya lifts his hands to his own neck and works the chain free from his sweat stained tunic. The leaf rests on his thumb. “Always think of you. So glad you’re going to be okay.”

Sidney pulls a dagger from the sheath on his waist and Zhenya closes his eyes, readies himself for a strike that will never come.

Instead Sid cuts his wrists free and uses the keys he got from the guard to unlock the chain around his wings.

Zhenya stretches them out slowly.

“What are you doing, Sid?”

“You saved my life once. Now I’m saving yours. We promised, remember? We’d never let anything happen to each other.”

“They’ll know you freed me. Your father-.”

Sidney holds the tip of the blade against his heart. “Take the lantern and the keys on your way out. Hang lantern on the hook and take the keys with you. They’ll assume I took them with me. In the morning they’ll find me instead and you’ll be long gone.”

“Sidney, no.”

“I won’t watch you die.”

“You expect me to? You won, Sid. Have whole life ahead of you. Happy life.”

“I am nothing without you. I have loved you since I was twelve years old. I won't lose you now."

Zhenya carefully wraps his fingers around Sid's wrist and lowers the knife. "Knew little boy long time ago who said we could run away together. We'd blend in. I think he's crazy, never work, but he was so sure we'd be okay. I loved him. Love you now. You still crazy?"

Sid drops the knife and falls forward into Zhenya's arms. 

He kisses the side of Sid's face until Sid gets himself to his feet and pulls Zhenya out the door behind him. 

 

*

 

Sid wakes when he feels the bed shift.

He groans and Zhenya leans over and kisses his head. "Go back to sleep. Didn't mean to wake."

Sid reaches around and pulls him back into bed for a real kiss. 

"Too early," he mumbles against Zhenya's lips. 

Zhenya laughs into the kiss. "Have to go check on chickens. Want fresh eggs for breakfast or not?"

"Want you to stay."

He gives in and leans more of his weight on the bed and onto Sid and Sid takes it happily. 

It's been years since the war, since they've settled into a quiet little life miles and lifetimes away from their childhood homes but they're both as strong as ever. They can give and take within their relationship like it's something they were meant to do. Like the whole war was leading up to this moment. 

Zhenya holds onto the side o his face and slips his fingers into Sid's hair and deepens the kiss.

Sidney's stomach growls and Zhenya finally pulls away and laughs when Sid tries to hold onto him. "Have to go, Sid. Have to make food so my love doesn't starve. Couldn't live with myself."

Sid flops down on the bed and watches Zhenya stand, wings stretching out behind him, as he gets dressed. 

They're okay. They're safe. They're happy. 

 Sidney takes a deep breath and reaches out across the bed towards him.

"Zhenya," he says and Zhenya turns around and immediately takes his hand. "I love you."

Zhenya sits down beside him. With his free hand he touches the pendant of the necklace before laying it flat against his heart, feeling the steady beat of it against his palm. 

"Love you, too."

 

 

 


End file.
